Long-ish Run with Angry

Months and months ago Angry lent me a running pouch to use in my "marathon on a whim and a prayer". The pouch was very useful since it held all my nutrition and my camera, but it resulted in major bruising on my low back and wore a hole in the skin of my hip that you can still see the remnants of today. But this post is not about how easily I chafe (someday I will write that post, and there will be pictures of my boobs). Angry is running his very own undertrained (according to him) marathon next week in Disney World, so he came up to get the pouch back, get some priceless advice from yours truly (read: bullshit I make up to sound smarter), and get in one last decent run before the big day.

Angry is scared shitless about this marathon, so Friday night was about calming his fears of land sharks, alligator attacks, and sub-standard performances. "I'm so scared. I'm afraid that when the gun goes off I'll forget how to run and just fall over right there on the street, and all the fat women at the back will trample me. Or I'll forget how to run in a straight line and just run into a swamp right into an alligator's mouth." (The previous quote has been added for dramatic effect. Angry's being a wimp, but not that wimpy. Those were my fears before my first marathon).

The plan for Saturday's run was to keep the distance down to 8 miles or less and take a tour around Boston. I was responsible for rout planning, which is never a good idea because I always get lost and made the rout longer than it should have been. I came up with a rout along the Charles river that would take us past several colleges.
We ate a hearty breakfast at the hotel restaurant, took an hour to digest, and decked ourselves out in Under Armour cold weather gear. We compared butts in our tight pants (I would dare to say that mine was sexier), then we fired up the Garmins and dashed out the door. We had barely run a fraction of a mile over the Salt and Pepper (Longfellow) bridge before Angry had to stop to re-tie his shoe. Angry would have to stop many times over the course of the morning. I only requested one stop.

We ran into the city and around the Boston Common (where we saw our first college, Emmerson), and Angry whined like a scared puppy every time we had to cross the street, even if there was a walk light and no cars coming. Then we made our way back to the water to run along the Boston side of the Charles for awhile (where we passed BU). We were running pretty hard, but Angry kept holding us back. Every time we passed another runner he would size them up. If it was a chick, he would keep watching her over his shoulder until I was afraid he would trip over something or his neck would snap, then he'd catch up and say, "I should have come to school in Boston. I could really see myself living here." If the runner was a guy, though, he would give him a quick once-over and then scoff, "That guy thought he was such hot shit" and do an exaggerated imitation of good running form.

We were going along pretty quickly, holding something around 9:15 min/miles, and then Angry had to stop to check out a rusted-out bridge when we ran under it, so we stopped... and then we walked awhile. A few minutes up the road we had to stop and check out some toxic waste clean-up in the water. Then, crossing back over the river into Harvard, Angry had to stop again. "I just want to look at stuff," he said. So we looked. Angry could lean easily on the side of the bridge, but I had to tilt my head back to even be able to get my chin over the ledge. "Are we going too slow for you?" I asked.
"No, I don't think I could go any faster," whined Angry. "I think I had too much for breakfast and I have to pee." So we ran into Harvard Square to find a place to pee. When the public bathrooms were closed in the mall, Angry just wanted to look at the stores. It was pretty obvious he was just stalling, since the stores were closed. At some point in the mall Angry looked over at me, "Oh my GOD, you're soaked!" he exclaimed. Indubitably. I would say that I sweat like a man, but Angry wasn't sweating nearly as much as me, so I guess you could say that I sweat like a rain cloud. Or that Angry sweats like a little girl. "Why don't you take your hat off?"
Take off my Sox cap?! No way! Anyway, I'd have horrible hat hair under there. "I have nowhere to put it, and I don't want to. There's a running store just a few blocks away, they might let you use the bathroom," I suggested, trying to change the subject. Really I just wanted an excuse to go in and buy a 26.2 bumper sticker for my new car.
"Good, then maybe I can buy you a headband so you can take that hat off." I don't think they sell Red Sox stuff at Marathon Sports. So made our way up Mass Ave to the world's greatest running store with the world's worst parking. On the way Angry started moaning like a bitch about his foot. "Oooooow! It huuuuuurts." I tried to walk to give him a break, but since I was drenched it was really cold. Angry was going to have to suck it up. I started running.

Luckily there were no headbands, and I got away with keeping my Sox cap. Angry got his reward for the half-mile detour to the running store, too. One of the guys that worked there came up to him, "Why are you wearing Underarmour? Is it any good?" Asking Angry if Underarmour is any good is like asking the Pope if the Bible is a good book. After talking to Angry, Marathon Sports is now thinking of carrying Underarmour brand clothing.

I managed to lose the river for a bit as we ran back towards MIT where the hotel was, but I don't think that Angry noticed the ugly industrial part of town we were running through as he alternated between telling me the history of the Under Armour corporation and bitching about his foot. As we ran the final few hundred meters to the hotel we joked about jumping in the frozen river. "Wanna go ice skating?" I asked.
"Sure."
"Okay, give me my camera, you go first." (Caption to imaginary photo) "Angry, up to his neck in the Charles," I said.
(Caption to imaginary photo) "Shortly after this Angry was rushed to the hospital. He is expected to recover fully," said Angry.
By the time we got back to the hotel, 10.2 miles and 1:37 (running) minutes later we were both in high spirits. I pulled off my cap for the first time since we'd left. "It looks like someone dumped a bucket of water on your head!" Angry cried. "We've gotta get you a headband!"
"I LIKE my Sox hat!!!" I insisted.

After lunch we went back into the city to do a little shopping. Ironically, I wound up with a headband, and Angry wound up with a boatload of Red Sox stuff. Hopefully this one last run wasn't too hard on Princess Angry and his delicate feet only a week out from the marathon. Be sure to watch his page next week to find out how it went.